Punch (77.1879)

46

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 2, 1879.

DIAGNOSIS.

Bus-Dr iver (to rival Conductor with inflamed visage, in the course of rectiminatioii). " I b'lieve
tee, Mother must 'a nu'ssed yer for a Month upside down !"

HAPPY-THOUGHT GUIDE TO LONDON.

Being an Improvement on the Dickensian Dickensionary.

BARGAINS.—The greatest Bar-gains are made by the Landlords of Public Houses and
Leading Counsel at Westminster and Lincoln's Inn. Much of the Bar-gains at the publics
is made out of Bum Customers. All shopkeepers are open to bargaining, but the wary visitor
to town must keep his eye open and his pockets too. Always go about in a coat with large
pockets. When you see something marked up at " Two-Ten, a Real Bargain! " mark it down.
Go in for it. Insist on having it, whatever it is. Have it out of the window, whether it be
a four-post bedstead, a barouche, a handsome fur mantle, or a set of fire-irons. Recollect
that a trial is always allowed. If they won't move the bedstead, insist on trying it in the
window; if a barouche, get a horse and harness on trial, and go out for a drive. The best
way is to begin with this and call for the other things. Possession is nine points of the law,
and once you've got them you can make your own bargain about giving them up again.

Perhaps after this some of the tradesmen
may wish you to have a further trial, in
which case leave for the Continent by the
night-mail. Things are cheaper abroad.
In all cases, when you buy anything and
don't pay for it, take it with you. Should
the shopkeeper ask for name and address,
give him the very best one you can think
of. At a Confectioner's {see "C," Confec-
tioner), always bargain for Buns (see "B,"
for Buns). If you can't afford a penny for
a whole bun, only eat half, for which, ac-
cording to all arithmetical rules, you will
only have to pay a halfpenny. They can't
force you to eat the other half of the bun,
and, evidently, there is no law that can
compel you to pay for what you haven't had.

" Time bargains" are made on the Stock
Exchange where Time is money. On 'Change
nothing is more common than to hear one
Broker say to another, " I want some change
for two minutes," with the reply, "you
shall have it in three seconds," — which
offer the Time Bargainer can close with or
not as he likes.

BATHS. —The Baths of London are
chiefly at Bayswater. Hence the name.
This is the most verdant spot in the Metro-
polis, commonly called Green Bays-water.
Beautiful water for rowing-matches. Ask
any waterman on a cab-rank about "Bays-
water Rowed," and you' 11 obtain all par-
ticulars. As the effect of Turkish Baths is to
make you very [hungry afterwards, and
ready to tuck in at anything, they are often
known as " The Tuckish Baths." In some
of these establishments (connected with the
Colney Hatch Society) they practise the
Bath Bun Cure. Tbe patient provides him-
self with a bun, and eats it when in the
Bath. It is supposed to be a Cure for Bath
Bunions.—(Vide Pilgrim's Progress.)

BEEFSTEAK CLUB.—One of the most
elegant, if not the most elegant, of the many
picturesque buildings of the Metropolis,
situated in King William Street, so called
after William the Conqueror, who was the
original Founder of the Club. _ " Now," said
the Norman Luke, in his quaint old French
style, wishing to conciliate the conquered
race, " let who will have their stake in the
country, I will have my steak in town."
The windows are all ceils de bceuf: the
general character of the architecture is
Short-hornamental Gothic. Its doors are
all fastened with bul-loeks; and the ancient
song of the Club is—

" Heifer of thee fondly I 'm dreaming,
Thy tender heart my spirit shall cheer."

The election is by ballot, and one bull's-
eye excludes. The only soup allowed here
is what is known in the City as " Bully;"
and when the waiter serves it to any mem-
ber, he says, " Bully for you, Sir." The
Dining-Room is hung with Bull's-Eye
Lanterns. No Ladies were ever allowed to
belong to the Steaks, and therefore there
have never been any Miss Steaks in^ the
selection of members. The Steak is a
Cosmopolitan Institution, and though pecu-
liarly British in its tastes, yet the members
might have considered the eminent French
Republican, M. Grew, as at all events
nominally qualified for the Presidency of
the Steaks. Nothing is allowed on the
table of the Beefsteak Club except what-
ever can be drunk out of at least a spoon,
or eaten with or without a knife and fork.
The members wear a peculiar sort of coat
with ox-ide of silver buttons, and make
themselves known to one another by certain
signs which only the initiated understand.

Army Discipline Bill (Final Issue).—
Toss up—Heads or Tails ?